It Starts With the Beginning
by FunkyFish1991
Summary: Every story has a beginning. Five kids met, made friends, made enemies...and became young legends... Genfic
1. Prologue

**Yup, another fandom but it's just too cool!**

**_Storm Hawks - _It Starts With the Beginning**

**Summary: Every story has a beginning. Five kids met, made friends, made enemies...and became young legends... Genfic**

**Chapter Word Count: 1833**

**Disclaimer: We all know I don't own _Storm Hawks_ – I just have way too much fun playing with the characters.**

**Warning: Rated T for Teen for safety – so I can do whatever I want with this story without having to lose readers. If you've never read another of my stories, know now that I write as I go, so plots are always a surprise, even to me! It also means I might go back and change something. If I do, I _will _let you know! And who doesn't love reviews...lol...so please do so for me!**

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_**Prologue**_

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Outside the air was filled with screams. He curled into as small a ball as he could, hugging his arms around himself. Even if he had wanted to he couldn't have drowned out the sounds of the screams.

But he didn't want to.

A huge crashing noise broke through all his senses, and dust and plaster began to rain down on him. He tucked himself in tighter. Something hard, heavy and sharp slammed into his side and he yelped in pain.

"Aerrow!"

His head jerked up when he heard the woman's voice. He couldn't see anything but falling dust and darkness. A huge chunk of wall had fallen right in front of him, but he didn't think to be grateful that it had just missed him. Rafters too had fallen around him in jagged rows, some smoldering and some totally charred.

Fighting the burning pain in his side, he started to push himself up onto his feet.

_"Stay here Aerrow, you hear me? Do not leave the basement for anything. You understand me Aerrow?" _

He fell back into his protective ball. Picking his head up, he quickly glanced about him. The basement had become little more than a trench – the remains of his home scattered around and enclosing him. He could see a chunk of the night sky between two sheets of metal and all the dust still settling.

He suddenly heard something shift in the debris, and his whole body jerked into alert. He skidded backwards on his rear, reaching behind him and feeling his hand close around something cold and metallic. He brought the pipe in to his chest, all his senses trained on finding the source of the noise.

A rafter suddenly fell to the side, and his father was revealed standing there before him.

"Dad!" he yelled, leaping up and running to the hunched figure.

"Aerrow! Quiet!" his father hissed, throwing frantic glances around him. Aerrow silenced, but didn't release his grip on the older man's waist.

"Dad – what's happening?"

But instead of answering, his father pushed him down to the ground, and crouched before him.

"Aerrow, listen very carefully." He could only just hear his father over the screams and crashes all around them. "No matter what, no matter what you hear, what you think, you mustn't open your eyes. You hear me?"

The young boy blinked at him in confusion. His father gripped his shoulders and gave them an urgent shake.

"Aerrow! Do you understand?"

The boy nodded silently, and his father slipped his large hand around his own smaller one.

"Now, Aerrow. Shut them now."

Aerrow complied, and after a small delay, he felt himself being dragged up onto his feet. And then they were moving. His short legs worked harder than they ever had before. His father's long stride frequently pulled him right off the earth, his only lifeline being the tight grip on his hand.

They shot in a generally forwards direction – but they seemed to be dodging something. Aerrow was tugged from side to side as his father swapped direction rapidly, weaving around and through something Aerrow couldn't see. He was confused and curious, but honored his father's command and kept his eyes pressed shut.

Screams and shouts echoed around him. Women and children shrieked, and men yelled in anger and in pain. Aerrow had to clench his eyes to overcome the temptation to look.

On his right he could feel a scorching heat, and as they continued on the heat grew stronger and stronger. Sweat was streaming down his face and body, stinging in several little cut and scrapes, and agonizing on his injured side. His free hand flew to the injury, and he had to keep back a yelp when he felt how wet his side was. He pulled his hand back, sticky, and refused to think about it.

He tripped over something hard and fell forwards with a yell. Instantly he felt himself being tugged to the side, a hand being pressed firmly over his mouth, his father's voice telling him not to make a sound.

Aerrow's heart drummed louder and louder in his chest as the seconds wore on and neither of them moved. Finally, whatever his father had feared might happen obviously didn't, and Aerrow was dragged back onto his feet.

The screams from the people of the village grew louder, and Aerrow realized that more and more of them were screaming now. Weird blasting sounds could be heard, and every one made Aerrow cringe inside.

"Aerrow!"

"Mom!"

His whole body jolted to the sound of his mother's voice as his eyes flashed open.

He froze.

Reaching out before him was a vast orange haze. The whole village was blazing. Thick black smoke curled up into the sky. Sparks flew madly around in the air. The screaming people were running around frenziedly, their cries mixing with the sounds of striking swords and crystal blasts. 

A deep red glow rose along with the flames. The Cyclonian warriors rampaged the town, striking down all in their paths. The orange light of the burning village reflected off the silver of their armor, glinting and flashing cruelly at Aerrow as he watched.

It only took a few seconds for his father to react. Aerrow was thrown roughly up onto his father's shoulder, and the man took off at full tilt away from the blazes of their home. Tears stung in his green eyes as he gaped back at the massacre of his village over his father's shoulder.

He was paralyzed.

He was thrown onto a hard surface, his stomach making contact with a painful smack. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the flames. He was yanked up into a sitting position, but he kept his eyes trained on the running and terrified villagers. His father settled down behind him, and it was only then that Aerrow realized they were on his father's skimmer.

"Aerrow."

The voice sounded distant, but when his shoulders were shaken roughly Aerrow snapped to attention.

"Aerrow, you have to help me fly."

Aerrow nodded even though he didn't understand, and wrapped his short fingers around the handles of the skimmer. Only one of his father's hands joined them, and Aerrow could vaguely feel that his father was crushing his other hand against his stomach. He was rigid, shaking, and Aerrow knew instinctively that his father was in great pain.

"Rev it, Aerrow." His father's command came through gritted teeth.

Aerrow twisted his hands towards his chest, fighting himself to ignore the screams and booming crashes still coming from behind the tiny airstrip. The engine growled into life and his father kicked up the stand as the vehicle shot forwards. The airstrip was only a few hundred paces long, and ended at the edge of the terra. The pair shot over the side with the faintest spray of rocks behind them.

Aerrow immediately reached down to pull on the lever by his left leg. It didn't budge, and he threw all the force he could against it. With a great crunch the lever jerked into place. The wings sprung from the sides of the skimmer and it launched upwards.

It was only a few seconds later that Aerrow heard the unwelcome sound of another engine growling behind them. His father turned around and cursed quietly.

"Full speed, Aerrow. We have to lose him!"

Aerrow turned the handles as far as they would go in to his body and the vehicle shot forwards, but the fact remained that the skimmer was only designed for crop dusting, and there was no way it would out-fly a Talon.

Behind him, Aerrow felt his father move down, and his large hand fell away from the handlebar. With a metallic clang from behind him, Aerrow was jolted in his seat as the skimmer suddenly jerked upwards. It only took him a few seconds to realize that his father had disconnected the dusting gear, and a few seconds more to regain control of the vehicle.

The Talon was practically on them by now, and Aerrow had to fight his urge to break down in fear. He powered the vehicle to its limit, but it just could not go any faster. He gritted his teeth, and in a small moment of decision, he jerked the craft to the side and into a straight plunge for the Wastelands below.

Ever since he was small, his father had taken him up on the old skimmer to work or just to enjoy the views and the heights. But never once had Aerrow actually flown the thing.

They dove right down, Aerrow squinting his eyes as the heat from the magma and flames roaring below them became stronger and stronger. The chugging of the engine grew more and more forced as the ancient skimmer was pushed to its limit. Aerrow didn't check to see if the Talon was still following, but concentrated on the soaring sound moving all around them as they freefell.

He was seconds away from plunging into the lava below when he suddenly heard the telltale whir of a skimmer pulling up. He grinned slightly and shifted the handles to the side, feeling his stomach jolt horribly as the craft leapt to the side and halted its fall. He just skimmed above the blazes below.

Tiny pieces of flaming rock leapt onto his clothing, and he frantically swatted them off before he caught fire.

He was suddenly thrown forwards by his father's body as a rocketing boom crashed behind them. He yelped in fright and pain as a terrible burning seared across his nose, but kept control of the skimmer. He pulled it round in an arc and saw the smoking remains of the Talon burning against a black rock jutting out of the magma. He scowled at it and pulled on the handles, rocketing the craft back up into the air.

Sweat and something else coursed down his face, his scarlet hair was slicked against his neck, his eyes wide. His heart thundered in his chest and his pulse beat furiously through his veins. His head ached all over, and he was aware of his father's body still somewhat crushing him against the handlebars.

Too afraid to push his father back in case he fell off into the Wastelands in his unconscious state, Aerrow tolerated his discomfort as he powered the skimmer through the nighttime air. He swept back over his home, but quickly banked and swerved away when he realized that he would gain nothing from that and may get himself and his father captured.

Not knowing where else to go, Aerrow sought the familiar blue light of the Terra Atmosia Beacon Tower. He saw it beaming far, far away like a star, and turned the craft towards its light, leaving the blazing village behind him.

Aerrow glanced back around his father as the pair soared away from the desolated terra – the inferno of his home fading away from him into the night.

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**Any thoughts? Please tell me! ;D**


	2. Crash

**Summary: Every story has a beginning. Five kids met, made friends, made enemies...and became young legends... Genfic**

**Chapter Word Count: 2902**

**Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Storm Hawks – I just have way too much fun playing with the characters.**

**Rating: T**

**Yes, a new chapter immediately, cause the last one was short!

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_Crash_

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"Dad!"

She quickly turned sideways and slipped her feet along the ground before the two men advancing could crush her between them. No one but her actually seemed to be looking where they were going. She had already been trodden on enough times to be wary of anyone coming too close.

But she had spent too much time watching the heaving crowd and not enough time watching her father.

And she had lost him.

She frowned as she dodged to the side and flattened herself against a wall, scanning all around her. This was ridiculous. He could be anywhere by now. She sighed and decided to just make her own way to the launch bay. She didn't really need him anyway; she was old enough to fly alone.

With her new plan, she strode to the right with a purpose this time. For some reason, less people were banging into her as she made her way towards the tall building rising near the edge of Terra Atmosia. Maybe they left you alone if you didn't look as lost as she had before.

She passed a store soon that had that day's paper displayed out front. ''Cyclonia' Debates Still Raging' was printed on the front page in a massive font, and caught her attention. She quickly darted sideways and leaned down to look at the newspaper through its clear container.

**_'Cyclonia' Debates Still Raging _**

_The United Terras Council Still Debates the Renouncement of Terra Cyclonia _

_by Alder Hicks _

_Though the debates in the United Terras have been going on for many months now, it is beginning to appear to the Atmos that every time the UT reaches a conclusion about Terra Cyclonia's fate, the terra does something to turn the tables once more. Master Cyclonis, on her last diplomatic voyage to Terra Atmosia two weeks ago, stated that she is concerned that it has taken the UT such a long time to decide Terra Cyclonia's fate. She protests the innocence of the terra in all the wrongs it is said to have committed over the years. _

_But even public opinion is still divided – many willing to forgive the terra as a whole, but many too in favor of the renouncement of Terra Cyclonia from the United Terras for its many misdeeds – including the most recent invasion of Terra Cyan, the peaceful farming terra. On this, Master Cyclonis has elected not to comment, saying only that there was a great misinterpretation of orders among her ranks and that the situation is being dealt with. Many find this claim difficult to believe, especially in light of the similar invasion of Terra Nimbus three years ago. Relief squadrons have been sent to Terra Cyan to aid in recovery, accompanied by the Night Owls, the Tiger Eyes and the Third Degree Burners squadrons in case force is necessary. It is wondered whether this extreme show of cautiousness is warranted or not, and what message it sends to Terra Cyclonia. _

_The main argument against the expulsion of Terra Cyclonia from the United Terras is that if made an enemy, it would make a formidable opponent, and many fear… _

Piper shook her head. Cyclonians were not to be trusted – and if she was on that council she would be the loudest voice in the room crying for Terra Cyclonia's expulsion. But she wasn't, and so far Terra Roc had elected to remain neutral on the topic.

Moving on, she glanced quickly at the time orb in the next shop along, and winced when she saw how late she was. She quickened her pace until the Atmosia Launch Bay came into view.

The building was huge – several stories high and spanning a surface area she couldn't even comprehend. It was sectioned off into divisions, and she knew she was headed for Division 18. She quickly darted through the vast open double doors and stared around her at the entrance hall.

Her biggest problem now was that her father had her luggage with him. It was only one bag – but she still really didn't fancy wearing the same clothes for two years straight.

She frowned and examined the cavernous entrance hall. It was absolutely teeming with people, and she realized straight away that there was no way she was going to spot him – or him her. She darted quickly over to a wooden bench at the side of the room. Jumping onto it, she stood on her tiptoes and scanned the heaving crowd.

Her heart soon sank. The rumbling noise of the hundreds of people making their way through combined with the crackling announcements over the loudspeaker and the blaring sounds of jets and carriers lifting off. People chattered and shouted and ran and sauntered all around her, and it didn't take her long to realize that her finding one man in this mess was about as likely to happen as the Beacon Tower shutting down.

However, she thought as she spotted with wide eyes a very familiar dark head moving through the masses, on very rare occasions I can be wrong.

She jumped down off the bench, trying to keep her eyes trained on the blue-clad figure. She pushed past people rudely, not bothering to excuse herself as she concentrated on her father's bobbing head. She was so close – reaching out her hand and fastening herself onto his coat.

He turned in surprise. Then his eyebrows shot up.

"Piper! Thank heavens!"

"Glad I found you. My transport leaves in ten minutes – and I kinda need my bag."

"Of course." He held it out to her, craning his head round at the departure schedule flickering on the ceiling above them. "Ten minutes, huh? Well, do you need me to walk you to your hangar?"

"No, I should be okay."

"Got your travel passes?"

"Uh," she quickly slipped her hand into her small shoulder bag, producing a few sheets of blue paper. "Yep."

"Money?"

"What for?"

"Just in case."

"I have some."

"You sure you packed everything?"

"Dad–"

"You didn't leave anything at home?"

"Dad–"

"You don't need me to go get anything for you?"

"Dad! Stop worrying! It's only two years – it'll go by fast!"

The mention of the time she would spend away from him did not seem to comfort him in the slightest. She bit her lip at his forlorn expression and reached up to hug him.

"I'll miss you, Dad."

He sank into her. "I'll miss you too baby girl."

She rolled her eyes as she pulled back from him. He sighed and looked around.

"I'm worried,"

I know!

"That you'll get lost. Maybe…" He trailed off as he seemed to catch sight of someone behind her. Before she could turn, he had snatched her hand and was dragging her in the direction of his stare. And before she realized, she was standing, somewhat shaken, next to her father and in front of a boy.

He was about her age, and she decided immediately that he was going to Terra Lecon as well. He wore quality clothes, and it was obvious he was well-off. Even if he hadn't been wearing expensive clothing, his haughty air and proud stance would have made his wealth perfectly clear. His blond hair was quite long and hit his collar, his dark blue eyes sparking at her from below his floppy fringe.

"Uh, can I help you?" he asked in a gravelly, light voice.

Her father spoke before she had the chance to share her confusion.

"Are you, Finnegan Race?"

"Uh, yeah."

Her father's face broke into a grin, and her confusion intensified.

"How wonderful! This is my daughter, Piper Kelaine, would you mind escorting her to the Terra Lecon transport?"

Both teenagers blinked at him. Then her annoyance set in, and she turned on him.

"Dad, I don't need an escort."

But the blond boy grinned almost devilishly and bowed to the pair.

"It would be my honor, Sir."

And then he looked her up and down in a way that made her want to smack him upside the head. She scowled and turned back to her father.

"Really, Dad, I think I can make it on my own."

"I know, baby girl, but I just worry, you know…" and then he pulled her so abruptly into a hug that she stumbled over the bag at her feet. He leaned down to whisper in her ear as he embraced her.

"His family is one of the most influential in the Atmos – you would do well to get close to him."

Her eyes widened, and then she smiled when she realized that the practical and tactical man that was her father had returned. Trust him to recognize someone who could prove useful in the future and maneuver her to him.

"Thank you, Dad," she whispered back as she pulled away. He kissed her cheek fondly and grinned at her. She flashed him a smile back before heaving her bag onto her shoulder.

"I'll see you in two years."

He smiled sadly and repeated her words with far less enthusiasm. "Two years. I'll miss you, baby girl."

"I'll miss you too."

And then she forced herself to turn away from him. She hated this.

"You, uh, need a hand with that?"

She turned her eyes to the boy in front of her, pointing at her heavy bag. She shook her head silently and he nodded.

"Well, the transport bay's this way. Come on."

He took off in front of her – his own, significantly larger, bag on his back. She cast her eyes to the ground – suddenly for some reason feeling all the pain of leaving that she hadn't had time for before. The boy's strides were long though he was not much taller than her, and she had to quicken her pace to keep up.

He seemed excited – almost jittery. She sighed silently as his head shot from side to side, his hair flipping in every direction. When they reached the towering door marked '18', he stopped.

"Transport to Terra Lecon, Division 18." He stuck a thumb out at the door. "Thisaway."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He grinned and pushed the button to open the door. It sighed open and the unlikely pair stepped inside.

Division 18, she knew, was where the freighters and heavy transports landed and took off from. The enormous ship that transported new students to Terra Lecon was too large to dock in any of the other divisions.

The three walls were high, and the ground area was larger than she could fathom. It was almost the size of her home terra of Roc. Gigantic ships were docked all around the edges, leaving a vast space in the center for taxiing and launches. The fourth wall was missing in favor of allowing the airstrip to end at the edge of the terra – so that in the case of one of the monstrous ships not leaving the ground in time, no buildings would be taken down.

People milled through it in a never-ending stream. Shouts echoed in the space, and clangs and metallic booms ricocheted around her – often followed by a yelp or an angry shout. Though it was less busy here and she could actually walk without fear of losing a toe, it was still bustling and loud enough for her to be wary.

She allowed her mouth to fall open as they walked past rows of airships larger than she would have thought possible. Her 'escort' had marched on ahead of her, and she let him go. She would gain nothing by being a simpering girl at his side, and she was finding the ships too interesting to just run past.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind her. She threw her head around in the direction of shouts and angry yells.

A piercing soaring noise ripped through the air and a skimmer shot into view above the hangar. A thick trail of black smoke wound behind it, and as it fell further towards the ground, it became clear that the craft was spinning out of control of its pilot. Screams broke out all around her as the rogue skimmer continued to spiral.

A huge weight suddenly slammed into her side and she was thrown painfully to the ground. A stabbing feeling shot up her right arm and she gritted her teeth. She lifted her head and saw the blond boy still lying on top of her, looking upwards. She opened her mouth to yell at him.

And then the skimmer crashed into the ground.

It ploughed across the tarmac – scraping right across where she had been standing just seconds before, sparks flying up into the air. After screeching and spinning far away along the airstrip it came to a halt as it flipped over – crushing whoever was on it beneath its weight.

Immediately she pushed the blond boy off her and was on her feet and sprinting over to join the crowd at the crashed skimmer. Even as she watched, flames sprung up in the crystal chute and the engine began to glow a bright white green.

Neon crystals. Cheap, common – and not at all compatible with fire. She pushed to the front of the crowd, panic flaring within her. Half the people there turned as they, like her, recognized the green glow of the explosive crystals, and ran screaming for the opposite end of the hangar.

One man darted forward and pushed against the bulk of the skimmer in an effort to right it and rescue whoever was underneath. Another joined him, but everyone else had fled. She rushed to help them, throwing all her weight against the smoking craft. The flames had spread across the body and were eating at the wings. They had only moments before they reached the crystal container. She coughed as the thick smoke filled her lungs, and closed her eyes painfully against it.

The three of them heaved at the skimmer as best they could, but it was a huge, old and heavy model. With a crunching sound the side of the craft lifted just the slightest bit. She immediately dropped to her knees and peered underneath. She saw blue and red – and a hand. Without hesitation she reached in and gripped the hand, pulling as hard as she could. Luckily, whoever it was wasn't too heavy, and she pulled them out from under the craft quickly.

She glanced back at the skimmer from her harsh landing on the tarmac – and noticed to her horror another body beneath the glowing hot metal.

"There's someone else under there!" she yelled, pushing the first body off her and leaning in to retrieve the other. She pushed her slim torso under the skimmer and wrapped her arms around the man. She only then realized there was no way she was going to get him out. She turned her head and saw the flames licking at the side of the crystal container. Her stomach wrenched as her lungs constricted against the billowing smoke.

Suddenly something grabbed her ankles roughly and pulled her. She was slid out from under the skimmer, and the blond boy was by her side.

"Come on!" he shouted, beckoning furiously for her to follow him.

The two men from before let the skimmer drop with heavy grunts and stepped over to her. They lifted the man whose chest she was still clasping up by his arms. She scrambled to her feet and followed the blond boy back over to the first person she had pulled from the wreck.

They each put an arm over their shoulders and lugged the dead weight between them across the hangar.

Then the fire reached the crystals.

There was a second's delay after they heard the shattering boom before they were all thrown forwards. Piper landed roughly on her chest and instinctively tightened her grip on the stranger's arm. The two of them rolled callously across the tarmac, her exposed skin screaming at her in pain, the rest of her jolting and crunching.

She finally came to a stop on her back, the body she had somehow managed to keep a grip on flopping onto her stomach. She breathed deeply, then hissed through her teeth as the pain began to set in. Her head was pounding. She let out a raspy cough. The air was full of thick green smoke, cinders of the skimmer falling around like some twisted sort of rain.

She lay there, panting heavily, for a long moment. Then she pushed herself up onto her elbows, from there moving into a sitting position. She looked down at the figure in her lap.

It was a young boy – probably about her age. His face was distorted by dirt and covered in soot – and blood. She shuddered when she saw just how much there was. He wore ragged blue clothing, a thick metal belt around his waist. His hair looked reddish but was too full of dirt and blood for her to tell. He was unconscious, and what skin she could see was ghostly pale.

She gently lifted him so that he was cradled against her body. She shook him gently, but there was no response.

"Hey! You okay?"

The blond boy dropped to one knee beside her, and caught sight of the boy in her arms.

"Whoa. Is he alive?"

"I think so – but we have to get him to a doctor!"

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